Vir Vhenan
by ArtemisMS
Summary: Cassandra wants the former Herald of Andraste to become her Left Hand. It's only natural that he, a Dalish elf, would refuse. So why does she think it will change his mind upon learning that Cullen has agreed to become her Right Hand?


Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth, 78th in line to the Nevarran throne, former Right Hand of the Divine, and now newly elected Divine herself, was pacing. Her boots were wearing a path through the center of the ornate Orlesian rug, trailing bits of dirt and soiling the rich, intricately woven threads. I didn't mind—I hated that rug. But it, the drapes, the bedding, even the furniture—it had all been selected for me. Even my bedroom must do its part to serve the inquisition.

"You are the only choice that makes sense," she said, pausing and sighing. "Surely you must see this. I will be surrounded by vipers seeking to gain power and influence by any means necessary."

"You have Leliana," I said, inspecting the newly fletched arrow in my hands. I held it up against the nearest window, squinting my eyes to check the balance between feathers before setting it down in the neat pile beside me.

She scoffed under her breath.

"Sister Leliana has her hands full dealing with the Inquisition. Now that you have declared your decision to leave and abandon us all—

"I never wanted to be part of your inquisition," I said.

I picked up another arrow, frowning at how sloppily the sinew had dried.

I heard her sigh again, more softly this time.

"I know."

I looked up in surprise.

Her brow quirked.

"You were not expecting me to say that. Inquisitor…" She stopped herself short before saying more gently, "…Auren. I am not a fool. I know you never wanted this. And I am grateful that you agreed to help us even after we granted you your freedom. You did not have to stay."

"Didn't I?"

I looked down, turning my left hand over and opening my palm, the newly fletched arrow balancing there.

The skin where the mark once dwelt looked so normal. Even the calluses looked as they always had before.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

After a second, she came to sit down on the bed beside me, gingerly, the mattress sinking somewhat beneath the weight of even her lightest armor.

I closed the hand into a fist.

"No. It's like it was never really there."

I expected her to say something, but she didn't. The silence between us was comforting. I could almost have laughed at myself—here I sat, in a shemlen fortress on a shemlen bed with a shemlen for a friend. It was madness.

But it was my life now.

"It's not possible," I said quietly. "I'm Dalish. I have my own gods. I can't serve yours, Cassandra."

"I am not asking you to," she said. "I'm asking you to serve me. As my friend."

I looked up at her, our eyes meeting.

"You would have an elf—a _male_ elf—serve as your Left Hand? It _can't work_, Cassandra."

"Why not? My Left and Right Hands must be my closest friends. The people I would entrust my life to. As for your heritage and your gender…" She scoffed again. "_I_ have been called to be Divine, and _I _have accepted. If I say these things do not matter, then they do not matter."

I could think of no response to that. I had given her my answer, yet she refused to receive it.

"Perhaps you should speak to Cullen," she said after awhile.

I looked up, surprised.

"Cullen?"

"Yes. I have asked him to serve as my Right Hand, and he has accepted. Perhaps he can persuade you where I cannot."

In truth, Cullen was the last person with whom I wished to speak. He was definitely not on the short list of people I intended to bid a quiet goodbye to before leaving. The thought of having to do so filled me with silent dread. Nevertheless, I was certain he was aware of my intentions to leave the Inquisition. It was hard, if not impossible, to keep information secret among our small inner circle.

"At least Cullen makes sense," I muttered under my breath.

Unlike a Dalish elf. I picked up my knife and reached for another arrow, but Cassandra's hand came to rest on top of mine, stilling it.

"Speak with Cullen," she said. "I insist."

"You're already giving me orders. You're adapting to your new role quickly enough."

I saw her smile from the corner of my eye.

"I don't believe the Chantry has jurisdiction over your people. So no, I am not giving you an order. But I would have you do as I ask, all the same."

I frowned. I could have pointed out that her people had rarely seemed concerned with _jurisdiction_ in the past. But I didn't.

It wasn't the sort of thing one friend would say to another.

* * *

I found Cullen in the sparring yard, just as I suspected I would, overseeing the newest recruits. It surprised me that the inquisition continued to attract attention even after the Breach had been sealed. It reminded me of what Blackwall—I didn't mind calling him that. It was his name, after all—of what Blackwall had said about the Grey Wardens. After a Blight, conscription wasn't necessary. Yet people still insisted on signing up.

It was more about the idea of it all, I suppose. To be a Grey Warden. To be a member of the Inquisition.

These things matter to humans.

The commander noticed me before any of the soldiers did. I made a habit of wearing dark, nondescript clothing these days, and generally kept the hood of my confiscated scout cloak pulled forward. It was easier to walk around Skyhold that way.

He said something to the fellow soldier he was talking to before turning away from her and smiling a little at me.

"Inquisitor…!"

"I'm not part of the Inquisition anymore," I said, drawing back my hood as I approached him. "You shouldn't use that title."

He nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. "Master Lavellan, then."

Ever polite, our commander. He was the only one among us who had yet to call me by my given name. In contrast, I hardly ever returned the compliment and referred to him as "Commander."

"I understand congratulations are in order," I said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You are to be Cassandra's Right Hand."

"Ah. Yes." He smiled a little. "I can't say I wasn't surprised. But… the honor was most assuredly mine."

He glanced back at the sparring yard before gesturing a little with his right hand, indicating that we might walk while we talked.

"I've dedicated my life to serving the Maker," he continued as we began to walk together. "Nevertheless, He can still startle me with what He has in store for me. I… try to be accommodating, but it isn't always easy." He looked at me. "I wonder if it is the same for you. I mean, for your gods."

"My people believe our gods no longer walk among us. That makes it impossible for them to ask anything of us at all."

He gave me a quizzical look. "And you believe that?"

I looked up at the sky, where so recently a bright, green rift once sat, splitting the heavens open.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not a scholar. I'm not a priest like Leliana, either."

He chuckled, coughing behind his hand to hide it. "Leliana is a Chantry sister, Inquisitor."

"Auren."

He looked at me.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should call me Auren."

"Oh—Of course. Auren."

Speaking my name seemed to trouble him, almost as if it were painful for him to say it. I really had to resist the urge to grab him by the jaw and shake him a little. _Auren Lavellan_. It isn't hard to say, Commander.

"Did you come all this way to congratulate me?"

I blinked and shook the mental image from my head. We had stopped. We now stood under the stone walkway that led up to Skyhold's main entrance. It was always cooler here, and I was glad for my cloak.

"No," I said. "That's not why."

I wasn't sure how to reveal what Cassandra wanted from me. I remained silent, listening to the sound of clashing steel on steel echoing from the sparring yard. To his credit, the commander was silent beside me, exhibiting more patience that I could have in his place. A bone-chilling gust of mountain air blew past us both, ruffling the fur of his Fereldan cloak.

"Cassandra has asked me to be her Left Hand," I finally said.

I watched the wind play with that thick, reddish-brown fur, trying to think of more to say. What was it she _wanted_ me to say, anyway? What was it she wanted him to say?

"And… you've decided to refuse her," he said.

"Of course I refused her." I took a deep breath, finally raising my eyes to his again. "What business does a Dalish elf have in being the Left Hand of the Divine? Of having anything to do at all with Chantry?"

"You're not _just_ a Dalish elf, you know. You're still the Herald of Andraste."

"We both know that isn't true. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was a spy, Cullen. That's all I ever was."

He frowned. "I disagree. Inquisitor—"

"I never even wanted to leave my clan. Can you believe that? I had no interest in seeing more of the world. I had no interest in shemlen affairs. I hated them. I hated the way we traded with them. I lost myself in the forest whenever the Keeper said we would be traveling toward a human city to trade.

"She sent me here against my will. To Haven, to the Conclave. Then your Divine was killed, and I somehow got caught in the middle."

I looked at him, feeling the anger and confusion I had repressed since first making that long, painful trek through the snow from Haven to Skyhold.

"I don't belong here, Cullen. It's childish of me to say that, and to act this way, and to feel like this. But it's what I feel. I… have no reason to stay." I choked on the words for some reason, and felt abruptly unable to meet his eyes.

"No reason at all," I said under my breath. "None."

I turned then and walked away, continuing away from the sparring yard. He didn't follow me. They were all used to my disposition. He would guess at my desire to be alone—_that_ wasn't childish of me; I knew if I stayed I'd say something unpardonable. Even my clan knew that much about me.

No, the childish part was probably my belief that I was the only one here who felt he didn't really belong.

* * *

Several hours later found me standing in the great hall, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed while watching Josephine and Vivienne flutter about the room.

"You would be a fool to refuse, my dear!" Vivienne called out to me as she breezed by. "Oh, no, Josephine, _darling_—you can't think to put Caralina next to Serault; she'll talk his poor head off! The man's an absolute recluse!"

Josephine looked up from her clipboard and the stack of placeholder name cards she and an assistant were setting on each table. She looked like she might argue, but then she simply sighed.

"Whatever you think is wise, Lady Vivienne," she said, motioning for her assistant to remove the cards.

They were rather frantically trying to prepare the great hall for tonight's banquet. It was to be the _official_ celebration of the closing of the Breach, and, theoretically, my last obligation as a member of the Inquisition. I had asked Leliana and Josephine to make my presence as unnecessary as possible, and they had both promised to try. I doubted a bunch of shemlen nobles would appreciate seeing an elf paraded about as a hero anyway, Herald or not.

"You have that look on your face again," murmured a familiar, lightly Orlesian accented voice.

I snorted. "What look is that?"

Leliana came to stand beside me, a coy smile on her pretty face.

"It's the look that says, 'I'll never understand these silly humans and all their bizarre rituals.' You wore it every time we wanted you to address someone important."

"I'm rather inclined to agree with him," said Varric, not looking up from the account book he was allegedly attempting to balance.

"See?" I said. "Varric agrees with me. Humans are stupid."

"Hey, now, I didn't say _that_. Incomprehensible at times? Sure. Overly fond of large gatherings? Absolutely."

"Harsh accusations indeed," said Leliana, smiling. "I would be offended had I not heard you many times speak far more harshly of your own people."

"What, dwarves? A nasty-minded people if I ever met any. Only concerned with profit. Obsessed with that 'Stone' of theirs. Make damned good crossbows though."

"And I hear some of them are decent writers," I quipped.

He finally looked up at us both—and grinned.

"A-ha!" he said. "Made you smile. Had a bet with myself I could do it at some point this evening. Quite a challenge, too, considering that cloud of gloom you've had following you around all day."

I frowned. "What cloud of gloom?"

"You've had it ever since you spoke with Cullen," said Leliana. "I thought it might have something to do with your replacing me as the Divine's Left Hand. But then I thought, no, it must be more than that."

"I think it may have more to do with our dear Seeker's replacement," Varric said, returning to his account book with a slight smile.

That took me more than a second to work out, and I was appalled by the heat I suddenly felt prickling against my face.

"Vivienne is right, you know," said Leliana. "You would be a fool to refuse."

I huffed, recrossing my arms. "How does she even know about this?"

"He asks while standing between two of the Inquisition's top spies," said Varric.

"Don't implicate _me_!" said Leliana with a laugh. "I didn't tell anybody anything. It's a well known fact that none of us can keep a secret from one another. Especially the really _important_ secrets, like Josephine and Blackwall, or Ser Barris and Dorian."

"Listen, Elf," said Varric. "Just do me a favor. Be sure to make note of who does the sweeping. You'd be surprised how important that sort of thing is to readers."

Leliana immediately started giggling, but I honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

I pushed away from the table, straightening.

"I'm going outside," I said. "I need some air."

* * *

The temperature had dropped noticeably. Walking the ramparts after the sun had gone down wasn't necessarily the most comfortable way to reach my intended destination, but it was also the best way to avoid any wandering visiting dignitaries. I would have had to make my way up here eventually, as his office was ultimately only accessible from this level of the stronghold.

I paused before the large wooden door before lifting my hand to knock.

"Enter," came the voice from within.

I lifted the latch and let myself in; the light and warmth that greeted me were in welcome contrast to the brutal cold I had just stepped out of.

Cullen stood up as soon as he saw who it was.

"Inquisitor!"

"Auren," I corrected.

"Auren," he repeated, the awkward look returning to his face.

How often were we going to have to do this?

"I'm surprised to find you here," I said. "I didn't think I'd be so lucky."

He nodded and gestured towards the array of papers on his desk.

"I was just drawing up a few last minute instructions to leave for Ser Barris. He's to take command of the Inquisition's forces once I leave for Val Royeaux." He frowned, his hand reaching up to absently rub the back of his neck. "Delrin, I suppose I should say. He'll be leaving the Order, at least officially. Everyone agrees it would look best if the new leaders of the inquisition continue the tradition of not being affiliated with any particular group."

Delrin. You can say another man's name, but you can't say mine, I thought. I hated Ser Delrin Barris for one brief moment.

"Isn't Delrin Barris the second son of a minor Fereldan noble?" I asked. "Seems hardly unaffiliated."

The other man smiled his wry smile.

"Yes, but _that's_ the sort of affiliation everybody professes to like. In fact I imagine many will consider him a vast improvement over his predecessor for that very reason."

"I rather liked his predecessor," I said. "He was very… competent."

I heard him snort as I turned away.

"High praise indeed…"

I let my eyes run over the shelves upon shelves of books that surrounded his work area. The fireplace we'd had installed was performing its merry function, making it warm enough for me to remove my cloak and lay it aside on an empty reading chair. I reached for a book, pulling it out. It was a treatise on farming. Rather boring stuff, really.

"You shemlen and your books," I said. "How you like to write things down."

"True, we don't have the same natural ability to recollect the past with perfect clarity the way the Dalish do. And our feeble minds require written words to pass on instruction."

I could hear the gentle amusement in his voice.

I replaced the book.

Anyone else would have questioned me by now, asked me why I had come. Once again, I searched for what I should say. It occurred to me, in that moment, that I didn't really _know_ why I had come here. I suppose that was a lie. I knew why. I was simply too afraid to acknowledge it.

"I don't know what to do," I said.

I reached out, tracing my finger down the spine of one book. It was in a language I didn't recognize.

"About Cassandra's offer," he said.

"Yes. About that. About anything."

I took a deep breath before continuing.

"I can't return to my clan. Too much has happened. I don't even know who I am anymore." I took another sharp, deep breath. "I don't know who Auren Lavellan truly is or where he belongs. I'm starting to believe he no longer belongs anywhere at all."

"I highly doubt that," said the warm voice behind me.

I turned to face him.

"I don't know why I'm coming to you with this," I said. "And you're going to be leaving soon. I won't see you again. I'll probably never see you again."

He looked hesitant, but for once his face seemed devoid of the awkwardness it sometimes bore when we were alone together.

"I knew a man once," he said. "A young templar whose life completely changed in the course of one evening. In the blink of an eye, everything he thought he knew was proven wrong. Hours felt like weeks. He was tortured, made to fear everyone he cared for, even the one he loved. It was a hard time for him.

"He grew up, came into his own as a man. He tried to forget that moment. It wasn't easy. He tried not to become someone he hated. Not to let that moment control him. On the whole, he believed he was successful.

"Then he was no longer a templar. Yet again, everything had changed. He no longer knew who he was or where he belonged. Perhaps, he found himself thinking, he didn't belong anywhere."

I stared at him. I felt shame creeping up my spine, prickling under the skin on my face. Selfish. I could be so selfish sometimes.

"But the story has a happy ending," I said. "He finds his purpose. Doesn't he?"

"Mm. More like he _makes_ his own purpose. He constructs it, chooses to live it." He paused, his faint smile becoming more warm. "He might suggest that _you_ could do the same."

I nodded, averting my eyes. I gazed down at the cheerfully blazing fire.

I swallowed.

"What would that young templar do if he were in love?" I asked. "In love with someone who…"

I trailed off, unable to finish. In truth, I was appalled at the words that were coming out of my mouth. I hadn't intended any of this. But then, I hadn't intended anything at all.

"In love with someone he thought couldn't love him back?"

I looked up again, our eyes meeting. At least it was there now. It had been said. Out in the open, no longer a thing to skulk behind and hide behind a furious face.

"Yes. What would he do then," I said.

"Auren…"

He took a stuttered step forward before pausing. I must have looked quite astonished upon hearing him say my name because now he was smiling at me.

He looked down, briefly.

"I should probably tell you… No." He shook his head. "I don't know how to say it. There is no _proper_ way to say it, I suppose."

He looked at me again.

"While we were both part of this Inquisition it did not seem… appropriate. And as this sort of thing had happened to me before, I… I knew that the best course of action would be to draw back. You were the Herald of Andraste. I was the commander of your armies. It simply was _not_ a thing that could happen. But…"

He hesitated before going on.

"But I convinced myself that it was entirely one-sided. And I—"

"It was not one-sided," I said.

I took a step closer. His eyes widened. Why, I'm not sure. He had to know by now. He seemed a wild animal now, a hungry, startled creature, and I the hunter.

"It was definitely not one-sided," I repeated.

I closed the distance between us then, reaching up to cup my hand behind his head and bring his mouth to mine.

The kiss was electric. For a few seconds, I was aware of how soft and warm his lips were, the gentle force pressing against my own, a somewhat scratchy chin brushing against mine. The first touch of his tongue against mine sent a pulse of desire all the way through me, and I heard myself make a little weak sound of pleasure, my mouth melting against his.

His hands encircled my waist, pulling me closer. I really do think Ser Barris's notes were in some serious danger, had a sudden knock from without not abruptly forced us to stop.

"Yes?" he asked, albeit a bit breathlessly.

The door opened, a scout poking her head in. I don't know what we were thinking, but we seemed to both snap out of some sort of dream state, both of us realizing we still stood with our arms around one another. I started back, and he did the same.

The scout goggled.

The commander cleared his throat.

"Report," he said.

"Y-Yes, sir. Lady Josephine says you are needed down at the great hall in half an hour. She says you are to dress in formal attire." Her eyes passed to me next. "She also sent someone to find you, Your Worship. She… She'll want you down there as well."

I nodded.

"Tell her we'll be there," I said.

As soon as the door closed, we both looked at one another. Nervous laughter started tumbling from us both, his voice slightly warm and husky. Gradually, the laughter between us died. Smiling, he reached out, his calloused hand touching my cheek. I quirked a smile.

He turned then and in one surprising gesture swept the notes off his desk before pulling me close again. His kisses stopped my startled laughter, my fingers curling through his wavy blond hair as I let him push me back against the now bare desk. His hips felt good pressing lightly against mine. There was always the danger of a second scout appearing, but I don't think either of us cared at that point.

* * *

We were an hour late arriving at the banquet. We arrived together—both of us entering at the same time, that is. I think the others knew as soon as they saw us. It was probably the first time I'd been seen smiling even after being forced into formal wear. I didn't even protest when Vivienne took my arm and began parading me about the room, stopping to speak with this noble or that courtier. I saw Cullen vainly trying to ignore something Josephine was teasing him about.

The following day, I told Cassandra I would accept the position as Left Hand of the Divine.

She said she already knew.


End file.
